A Second to Perfection
by pratz
Summary: Just one more step to perfection. Just one more step.


**A Second to Perfection**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and co. _Banana Fish_ belongs to Yoshida Akimi.

AN: I was in the NYPL's Rose Main Reading Room, and this idea came. Basically, this is how I imagine Alex would turn out if she were a shade darker like _Banana Fish_'s Ash Lynx. Also, you might want to hurl bricks at me after reading.

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 7:20 PM EST]

"Call 911! No—wait—fuck. Just—just call the police."

"What the—"

"She's cold, Frank. I think—I think she's already—"

"—hell."

"Yeah. Hell."

"I thought she's only fallen asleep while reading that letter of hers, you know. I mean, who on earth came to a goddamn library with a GSW? And a day before Thanksgiving, nevertheless. And—and look at that smile! Who had a smile like that when sleeping? Jesus, Abby. She looks like she's just sleeping and having a nice dream."

"I wish she was."

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 5:15 PM EST]

Sleep.

She just wants to sleep.

And quite possibly forgets the way she knows there's a small hole right beneath her breastbone and a bigger one on her side, the way she realizes that her stomach acid seeps into her chest cavity, the way she can't stop her right palm from pressing against her abdomen out of fear of making a fountain of blood out of herself and tainting the grandiose Rose Main Reading Room.

But definitely not the way Piper smiles at her the last time she sees her ten years ago as they part their way.

She closes her eyes and recalls the memory.

It's been such a long, long time.

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 5:02 PM EST]

_Dear Alex,_

_Congratulations on finishing your parole!_

_I have tried my best to time this letter so that it will reach you on your big day. Do you get this mail on time? If it's too early, stop reading! I want you to read it on the D-Day. If it's too late, I'm sorry. If I go back to the States, I'll bitchslap the USPS._

_(Also, what's the deal with 11/23/2023 being your last parole day? I mean, JFK was assassinated on this day. Not that you're going to Dallas, anyway. But still.)_

_Attached with this letter is a ticket from JFK to Phnom Penh. I tried to find the shortest flight with fewer stops, and this is the best I could find. I'll be picking you up in Phnom Penh. Do you want to stay for a few days in Phnom Penh first before heading to Siem Reap? I assure you: everything I've said in my previous letters is true. Tuktuk riding is more often a scam, everybody loves American dollar, and I'll leave you on your sorry ass if you insist on visiting Tuol Sleng. (That, or you'll have to bear with me throwing up every damn traumatic second. Seriously. And that's not so sexy.)_

_My schedule is flexible until school starts in February. I've planned a bit, but I think you'll enjoy this country—that I can now proudly call home—if you free fall through it. Right?_

_We can go wherever you want. I can't wait to show you the school—but no kinky business of you calling me Miss Chapman while I show you my classrooms. I can't wait to climb to the top tier of Angkor Wat with you to watch the sunrise. (I've done it several times, so I know the best spot over there—much better than the reflection pool and its hordes of hungry tourists at the feet.) I can't wait to show you Tonle Sap—not only for my school and students, but also for the people. Oh, and probably the Mekong crocodiles also! I wasn't lying when I wrote I almost lost a leg! I can't wait to go to each and every Sihanoukville beach with you, and you'd better keep your promise and eat your shoes because I'll prove it to you how underrated they are and how overrated Thai beaches are. As for the strangers in drag or the X, well, we'll see. (I'm not so into X, and I'm more qualified in cooking Khmer cuisine.)_

_But most importantly, I can't wait to see you again. I've spent a decade trying to forget you and another waiting for you; you've spent a decade hating me and another waiting for me. I don't know what the future might bring, or what it'll make us, but I think it's about time we're done waiting, don't you think so?_

_So hurry get here and we'll figure things out and start anew._

_Yours truly,  
__Piper_

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 4:55 PM EST]

"You okay there, young lady? You look kinda pale."

"I'm... fine. Just tired. Thanks, though."

"I see. Well, don't let me disturb you from your reading."

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 4:47 PM EST]

Patience and Fortitude the lions stare at her from beneath their blanket of thin snow. It will be the last time, she realizes. They've been her loyal friends for the last two years. They will always have Manhattan that way: quietly, unyieldingly, endlessly.

They will no longer have to share Manhattan with her after today.

She will have nothing to share after today.

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 4:40 PM EST]

She barely exits the New York Public Library's Science, Industry, and Business Library between Madison Avenue and 34th Street when two tall, lanky men with buttoned up winter coats and fedora hats grab her by each arm and half drag her to a small nook next to Cornerstone Physical Therapy on the 35th Street.

No need to guess.

And no need to struggle.

Her time is up, she knows.

Even through the layers of her coat and sweater, she can still feel the cold press of the metallic cylinder of one of the men's gun silencer.

"The boss said hi."

Then a hot burst on her stomach, muffled, blanketed even more by the rustle of busy Manhattan streets and people in motion. Then searing coldness followed by numbing pain. Then dark wetness on her sweater and coat.

Her time is up.

-.-.-.-

[November 23, 2022, 4:00 PM EST]

"Hey, Vause! You got another letter downstairs! Grab it before you return your books to the library!"

"Oh, thanks."

"Hey, be more enthusiastic! Today's all sunshine for such a New York winter, it's your last parole day, and you got that letter from you-know-who. You got it all perfect, girl! What more you expect? Heaven?"

"Hey, don't go all sentimental on me, old man."

"Hell, if I was you, I'll fucking ditch this city for bright, sunshiny Southeast Asia."

"Don't be a dick. Manhattan is great."

"Not if you ain't got nobody, bookworm. Not if you ain't got nobody."

-.-.-.-

[November 22, 2022, 11:40, EST]

"So I guess congratulation is in order, Vause. Now don't you dare fuck up your second chance."

"I have no plan to."

"Good. As your correction officer, I'll kill you myself if you land in prison again."

"Don't worry. I'll stay the fuck away from prison. Heck, I'll stay the fuck away from this country."

"Oh? Have somewhere in mind?"

"Cambodia."

"You have a plan or something there?"

"Someone. I made a promise to someone."

"Whoa. That's a giant leap, Vause."

"It's an inevitable giant leap, indeed."

-.-.-.-


End file.
